


you are

by siesspi



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siesspi/pseuds/siesspi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>brief looks into the life of heinz doofenshmirtz, from age seven to present</p><p>warnings for child abuse, brief descriptions of gore, and it’s just generally negative</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are

You are newly seven years old, and you’re stumbling home through the woods.

Your breathing is ragged and tears are hot in your eyes. Blood is draining quickly from the torn stump of your right arm. In the darkness, you couldn’t see the thing that took it. The light purple dress your mother made is ruined, soaked in blood and smeared with dirt and sticky with the saliva of the horrible beast. You hope she won’t be too mad. With every step your head spins a little faster. You wonder briefly if your parents will miss you. You’d like to think so.

You are seven years and two weeks old, and your arm isn’t growing back. It comes as an unpleasant shock, but you simply build a new one. You don’t ask your parents for any help. You don’t think they even noticed you lost it in the first place. Maybe it’s better. They might have been angry with you for leaving your post in the garden.

You are eight years old, and you wake up screaming. Tears run freely down your face as you hug your knees and shake with sobs. Your heart won’t stop pounding, and you feel as breathless as if you really were just running from the terrible creature in your dreams, and not lying still and safe in your bed. You hear Roger cry in the next room. Mother runs to comfort him.

You are nine years old, and your parents don’t want you anymore. Mother shoved you out of the house and shut the door and left you to the world. You don’t wonder what you did wrong. Everything you do is wrong.  
Eventually, you find yourself living with ocelots. The nights are cold and lonely, and you are more often than not violently sick from eating raw meat. You spend every day filthy, weak,and frightened, never able to fully wash the taste of blood from your mouth. You wish you could go home. You wish you had been a better son.

You are ten years and 142 days old, and you don’t know why they ever took you back in. You do your best to be good this time. Usually they ignore you. They still like Roger better. You avoid him when you can. Your vision is tinged with red when you look at him.

You are sixteen years and 348 days old and you’re on a ship bound for an unknown destination. You spend every day berating yourself for getting a second chance and still failing your parents. You become very sick during the journey, and find yourself coughing up blood. You remember the ocelots. You turn seventeen in the bowels of a dark ship with your lungs burning. You don’t know that you did. You don’t celebrate your birthdays anymore.

It’s been thirty years, and you’ve since lost the other arm. This time, you cut it off yourself. You can still imagine it crushed under the boulder and recall the smell of the blood and remember your ocelot family. It’s been thirty years since that birthday and you still hate celebrating them. It’s been thirty years and your parents still don’t want you. It’s been thirty years, and you still wake up screaming.


End file.
